Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

That night was far from the first time they'd fallen asleep so close like that, and it was probably far from the last. Still, after that night, Richie noticed Eddie had become touchier than ever. There wasn’t much change in public, considering what kind of a town Derry was. When they were out and about, Eddie kept to the usual side bumping and arm punching and shrugged Richie off when he slung his arm around Eddie’s shoulders to be gross.

When it was just their friends around, Eddie and Richie sat close enough for their knees to bump and their shoulders to connect. They didn’t mind getting into a play fight and rolling around, throwing weak kicks and punches through loud belly laughter. They certainly didn’t stop tangling their legs together in the hammock, even when sometimes they’d come dangerously close to falling out of it. The Losers would laugh off the physical displays of affection and continue whatever it was they were talking about.

In secret, though (and Richie would never say this in case Eddie yelled at him for a few minutes straight), it was like Eddie couldn’t get enough. He was touching Richie all the time. He’d rest his hand on Richie’s calf when he stretched out his leg in the hammock, swing his legs over to be in Richie’s lap when they were sat down side-by-side.

Eddie would run his hands through Richie’s hair even when they weren’t kissing, knocking his glasses askew over and over until RIchie had no choice but to take them off and focus on the feeling of Eddie’s fingers gliding over his scalp. When they were kissing, Eddie would grab Richie’s hand that wasn’t already cupping his neck and move it down to rest on Eddie’s waist.

Richie definitely didn’t mind. Eddie was already straightforward without making a big deal out of what he wanted. The most he’d ever talk about it would be by asking “Is this okay?” when he started to loop his arms around Richie’s shoulders from behind and “Can I do this?” when he wanted to latch himself onto Richie’s back during sleepovers. Eddie always asked before following through, and Richie always answered with a painfully bad nonchalant expression and a few eager nods.

It was cute, and really nice to know that Eddie cared about where Richie’s boundaries lied. Richie almost wanted to admit he had no boundaries when it came to Eddie’s touch, but figured Eddie would keep asking anyway. Richie liked hearing Eddie ask him for things, especially if Richie was very happy to provide.

(“Is this okay?” Eddie had gasped into Richie’s mouth one afternoon, swinging one leg over Richie to straddle his lap. Richie’s brain had practically fizzed out, and it took him a second to register that Eddie was hovering over him patiently.

“Yeah, that’s—Yeah,” Richie managed to say, cueing Eddie to slink down over his thighs and lick into his mouth. They hadn’t escalated past that, but Richie was lucky Eddie had to leave soon after. Something of his own had escalated, and Richie practically flew up to his room to take care of it the second the front door shut behind his friend.)

Alternatively, Eddie could be a stubborn little shit when he wanted to be. Like now, for example, when he had practically inhaled his ice cream cone and kept bugging Richie to share his. The Losers had been wandering around town after lunch on their lazy Saturday, and were currently paying no attention to their friends bickering in the alley opening next to Derry’s only ice cream parlor. Really, they were just letting time pass until they’d bike to the edge of town to meet Mike in an hour.

“Just give me a little, I won’t even take that much, asshole, I’m fucking hungry,” Eddie demanded, trying and failing to push past the forearm Richie had planted across his chest. Richie’s other hand was outstretched to keep his cone away as he struggled to keep his friend away from his delightful snack.

“I literally gave you most of the chips earlier,” Richie argued mostly-playfully, turning a little when Eddie tried to step to the side. Eddie placed a hand on Richie’s face, hard enough to press his glasses dangerously close to his eyeball. He almost laughed, but then Eddie’s hand came dangerously close to snatching his cone. “And you stole half my orange at lunch after you finished yours!”

“I haven’t had ice cream in weeks, dickface.” Richie managed to lean back enough that Eddie’s hand slipped away, but now his glasses were practically half-off his face. Even without adequate vision, Richie could make out the scowl on his friend’s face.

“Me neither! Buy yourself another cone, fucknose!” Eddie paused at that, and Richie froze, too. Then the moment was over, and Eddie practically threw himself forward in another attempt to grab at the ice cream.

“I’m saving my allowance,” he grumbled, a little too serious for Richie to want to elaborate. Instead, Richie gave a goodhearted roll of his eyes and grabbed Eddie’s wrist to keep it still. Eddie froze, his other hand gripping at Richie’s shoulder.

“Fine, have this one. I’ll go buy myself another, if you’re going to keep being fussy over it,” Richie teased, placing the cone in his friend’s hand. He was intending to give it to Eddie all along, but he had fun feeling his lean chest pressed up against his arm, puffed up in indignance. He was like one of those little birds they liked to stare at with Stan, puffing his teeny feathers out.

“I’m not being fussy,” Eddie hissed even as his expression let up and he leaned off of Richie. Seemingly content, he licked at the ice cream with absolutely no complaints about Richie’s tongue being all over it. Richie guessed having his tongue directly in Eddie’s mouth kind of put them past being grossed out by second hand spit.

“Not even a ‘thank you’? ungrateful heathen. I’ll be back, guys.” The Losers didn’t pay him much mind besides a little smile and nod from Ben, the sweet kid. Richie grinned back before turning on his heel, and after a few seconds he heard Eddie’s quick footsteps pattering behind him.

A few minutes later, Eddie whined into Richie’s mouth as he desperately pinned him against a grimy brick wall behind the ice cream parlor. Their chests were pressed together, and Eddie’s hands were roaming so much Richie barely knew what to do with his. Their mouths were sloppy and wet, with too much tongue between too many sounds and too many gasps for air. It was the hottest thing Richie had ever done in his life.

“Eddie—” Richie managed as his friend grabbed at his arm, then his waist, then his hip. They both graciously ignored the tenting in Richie’s shorts. “Eds, we gotta—Our friends are waiting for us, we should, we have to, oh my god.”

“Keep talking,” Eddie breathed, having moved down to kiss wetly against the smooth skin of Richie’s neck. His swollen lips dragged over right beneath Richie’s jaw, smacking over his adam’s apple, licking at where his pulse was ready to climb right out of his throat.

“I dunno what I was talking about,” Richie admitted, seeing nothing but stars as his eyes fluttered. He was alternating between melting into the building and anxiously glancing around for anyone who might want to show up to take a leak. “We should—fuck, what the hell are you doing to me, dude?”

“Tasting you,” Eddie muttered as he grabbed Richie's shoulders, and Richie swore his knees turned to liquid for just a second. How was his dick not busting through his zipper right now? “We’ll be done, just gotta, just… Richie, come on, take off your shirt.”

Richie was still scared out of his skin considering he was literally being mauled by some new, freaky, horny Eddie in broad daylight; but then the new, freaky, horny Eddie looked up at him with half-lidded half-moon eyes, and parted lips that were bruised a pretty little red. How could anyone say no to that? he thought. Or maybe he said it out loud. He could hardly tell the difference.

Richie’s shirt was on the ground in less than a second, and he nodded frantically when Eddie asked for permission. Eddie bent at the waist and splayed his small hands across Richie’s pale white chest. His index and middle fingers framed Richie’s nipples, like they were some sort of—sort of—”Oh, holy shit that feels really good.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked a little smugly, before running his tongue slowly over one of the pink blooms between his fingers. Richie let out an embarrassing whine, but all it seemed to do was spur Eddie on. Richie brought one hand up to run through Eddie’s hair, the other staying helplessly flat against the wall. “I’m the only person who’s ever done this to you, huh?”

“What’s gotten into you, Eds?” Richie managed, half chuckling and half moaning. Eddie teased a bite as his nipple before swirling his tongue around it and then moving to the other one. “I mean, don’t—ah—get me wrong, I’m digging it, but you should—should tell me what happened so I know what to do next time, y’know?”

“What do you think happened?” Eddie might have sounded irritated if he didn’t sound so into what he was doing. One of his hands pinched at Richie’s wet nipple as the other one trailed to grab at the soft part of his waist again. If Richie weren’t half braindead, he would’ve been kind of self-conscious about Eddie groping at his lovehandles.

“Thinking really isn’t—I don’t think I’m capable of it right now. Oh my god.” Eddie sucked at him lightly before pulling away, but his hand didn’t stop pinching when he stood up again to lick at Richie’s neck. Richie’s hands fell to the waistband of Eddie’s shorts. Not the red ones, unfortunately, just some boring khakis he still fit into after a couple of years.

“That girl was coming onto you, Rich,” he huffed. He sounded a little upset, and Richie’s eyes fluttered open. He didn’t know how long they’d been closed, but it took him a second to focus on Eddie’s frown. Eddie allowed the recovery time, probably figuring Richie wasn’t getting much blood to his brain at the moment.

“What girl?” he asked, a little dazedly. Eddie gave a meaningful nod to the building behind him, and Richie had to make an actual effort to think for a second. “The girl, uh… Oh, shit, in the ice cream parlor? What are you talking about?”

The employee behind the counter had been a girl with a name Richie could never remember, but who he recognized from school. She was nice enough, considering he rarely talked to anyone who wasn’t a Loser. He had at least one of them in all his classes, usually, and never really found the need to make other friends in class.

“She called you funny,” Eddie pouted, and his thumb absentmindedly pressed against the pink little nub on Richie’s chest. Richie tilted his head back against the wall at the feeling, and groaned quietly when Eddie pressed a lingering kiss to the base of his throat. “And you guys talked.”

“Yeah, about how much I owed her for the ice cream.” Then it hit Richie, what was going on right now, and he wasn’t upset so much as bewildered. He rolled his head back forward to raise his brows at Eddie. “Were you jealous because our classmate and cashier was polite to us?”

“She looked at you, like—in, like, a… a girl way,” Eddie defended, finally letting his hand slip off Richie’s chest. His brows were furrowed, and Richie ducked his hands below Eddie’s t-shirt to fiddle with the belt loops on his khaki shorts.

“You were jealous,” Richie repeated, blinking down at the pouting boy who had his mouth all over him just two seconds ago, but who was suddenly too flustered to make eye contact. “Of… me talking? To a person?”

“Don’t make it sound so stupid, asshole.” Richie squawked a little as Eddie lightly backhanded his stomach. He glared at nothing in particular, but the tilt of his head made it look like he was frowning at Richie’s bellybutton. “I don’t know. Forget it.”

“Why were you jealous?” Eddie didn’t answer. Richie tugged at his belt loops a little bit, careful not to bring him too close lest he get a little too close to his tent. Eddie just sighed and patted his wrists until he let go. “Eds?”

“You’re… my best friend, dude, I dunno.” Eddie crouched briefly to grab Richie’s t-shirt, then shook it out a little to get the weirdly damp alley dirt out of it. Richie’s heart did a funny little thing where it swooped in, like, a circle.

“Yeah. Yeah, duh, we’re best friends.” Except you were, like, devouring my nips just now, “dude.” Richie accepted the shirt when Eddie shoved it into his hands, and started to tug it on. When his head was through the hole at the top, he continued, “You know you don’t have to be jealous, right? I barely paid attention to what that girl said. I just wanted to get ice cream.”

“Yeah, what a waste.” They both looked down, where Richie’s newly-bought ice cream cone was perfectly upside-down and melting into the dirt a few feet away from them. They looked at each other again, and Richie’s face screwed up at the state of Eddie’s hair.

“You’re the one who stole my shit and made me buy a new cone, dumbass, don’t call me a waste when you’re literally the reason it’s wasted.” He started trying to fix the total rat’s nest on Eddie’s head, patting and brushing and stroking. Only one of his arms had gotten through his shirt, though, and Eddie started helping him get dressed properly.

“Whatever, you were mostly done with your cone anyway. I just asked to get a few licks in, you’re the one who gave me the entire thing,” Eddie replied, maneuvering Richie’s skinny arm through his shirt sleeve. Richie managed to get his shirt on just as he decided Eddie’s hair looked neat enough. He wiggled his brows as he tugged his shirt down, pretending he wasn’t flushed in the face and sporting a semi.

“Yeah, and you ended up licking that and then some, huh?” Eddie shoved at him, but Richie was already up against the wall, so it didn’t do much. He laughed, and Eddie failed to fight back a smile as he backhanded his stomach again. “Thanks for sharing some ice cream spit with my nipples, dude.”

“Don’t be fucking gross,” Eddie said, like he wasn’t the one to get his mouth all over Richie in the first place. Richie just snorted, trying to focus on getting his lower half under control before they had to step out into the main street again.

“I’m only gross because you’re gross.” Richie switched into an affronted southern newscaster Voice, placing a hand over his forehead. “This just in: Eddie Kaspbrak’s scandalous true colors! Ice cream hoggin'! Jealous tantrums! Chest suckling! Whatevah will he do next? Lock yer doors, I say, lock yer doors!”

“Next time we get ice cream, I’m gonna smash a cone right into your face.” Eddie started walking off, nudging the ice cream cone with his shoe as he walked past. Richie was quick to follow, as always, and picked up the intact cone as he went. “If you eat that, I’ll take you out before the fucking alley microbes do. Richie, if you put that in your mouth I’ll literally never kiss you again.”

“Five second rule, Eddie, baby,” Richie exclaimed, opening his mouth exaggeratingly wide. Eddie shrieked and slapped the cone out of his hand before it could touch Richie’s lips, sending him into a laughing fit.

They met up with the Losers again, and when they all raced to the dirt road leading up to the Hanlon farm and then up to the farm itself, Eddie was the one to win. Mike personally handed him a large glass of sweet tea as congratulations, then took care to serve the others, too.

When the day was done, they snuck Richie into Eddie’s room to makeout some more (after they stopped by the Toziers’ to get Richie a shower, because “If you get alley germs all over my bedsheets, I’ll kick you out myself!”). They didn’t really discuss it, but the alley had been the most they’d ever done. Both of them were practically buzzing by the time they’d brushed their teeth and bounced onto Eddie’s bed after locking the door.

“You have to—mmm—come with me to the diner tomorrow,” Eddie murmured into his mouth, perched on Richie’s lap with his hands on either side of his face. Richie held firmly to Eddie’s thighs, swiping his tongue past his lips just as Eddie did the same. They melted into each other at the wet slide of their tongues, and Eddie’s back arched a little.

“Okay. Why?” Richie hummed in reply, moving one hand around Eddie’s ass to trace the arch of his spine. His friend shuddered, and Richie marveled at the twitch of Eddie’s muscles beneath his fingertips. His hand slipped under Eddie’s shirt. “Can I touch here?”

“Yeah, sure, yeah,” Eddie said eagerly, tilting his head a little to lick into the corner of Richie’s mouth. Richie could make out every bump of Eddie’s spine with his hand, and reached further up to feel the outline of his shoulder blades. He wondered what it would be like to feel it with his lips. “Me and Mike made up our plans, remember? We told you guys earlier? For Beverly’s birthday.”

The mention of their friend made Richie falter a little bit, and Eddie seemed to notice. He pulled back a little, then kissed Richie once, gently. When he pulled back again, he pressed their foreheads together, and Richie’s eyes fluttered open. Eddie slid his hands down from Richie’s face, only to wrap his arms around Richie’s neck.

“For Bev’s—Yeah, I remember now. The thirteenth is tomorrow? Already?” Richie leaned up a little to give his friend a peck on the lips, just to let him know kissing was definitely still on the table, but took a second to catch his breath. “Okay. Diner. Uh, what do we need to go there for?”

“Been saving up my allowance for food,” Eddie explained patiently, his warm breath fanning over Richie’s spit-slicked mouth. “I don’t think we can really afford decorations, but Ben and Bill said they could try to do something. Ben’s got music, at least, and they’ll both bring drinks.”

“Bill said he thought about Christmas lights, but there’s no electricity down there,” Richie nodded, his brain finally catching up. He thought for another few seconds, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into Eddie’s skin. He recalled back by the ice cream parlor, when Eddie didn’t want to buy himself another ice cream cone. “Huh. You were saving up to buy food? I can split with you, I’ve got my allowance, still.”

“If you want. Thanks. Mike was going to cook some stuff, too, so we probably don’t need that much. You’ll come to the diner with me?” Eddie asked, starting to fiddle with the small hairs at the back of Richie’s neck.

“I’ll come to the diner with you,” Richie agreed, barely having to think about it. Of course he’d go with Eddie. Why wouldn’t he go with Eddie?

“Okay.” Eddie hesitated for a second before offering, a little softer, “Do you think I could… Can I sleepover with you after?”

“Wh—You mean, like, after the party? Just us?” Another beat of hesitation, then a nod from Eddie. Richie nodded, too smiling a little. “Yeah, I—My mom wouldn’t mind, you know that. Do you need a cover?”

“I can just tell my mom all of us are at your house,” he offered, “so she thinks it’s a group thing, and she doesn’t like how upset I get when I can’t do group things.”

Richie felt his stomach do a funky dance move at the thought of Eddie lying to his mother to hang out with him instead of just sneaking out. He would be thrown off by the rebellion if it had been anyone else, but he figured Sonia deserved a little dishonesty, considering… everything.

“If you think that’ll work, then yeah. For sure, Eds.” Eddie nodded once before pressing forward again. They ended up messing around longer than expected, but Richie didn’t mind—Eddie had let him return the favor of licking and sucking at his chest, and it was just as fun to give as it was for Richie to receive. They had to keep quiet, but each of Eddie’s muffled whines and gasps would fuel Richie’s imagination for as long as he lived.

Eddie was still shirtless by the time Richie rushed out the window to get home before dark, and both of them had politely ignored the other was hard. Richie tried not to think about their tents until he’d scarfed down dinner and retreated to his room for the night.

The next day, Eddie showed up at Richie’s to drop off his overnight bag before they started their errands. Eddie and Richie halved the bill between large orders of fries, chicken tenders, and seven burgers. Eddie had wrapped plastic utensils in napkins as they waited, and made sure to (politely) ask for paper plates. They even made the last-minute decision to stop by the grocery store and bought a box of those really processed powdered donuts Beverly liked.

They biked with one hand on their handlebars, holding onto the food and boxes as best they could. They happened to cross paths with Mike when they were near the Clubhouse, and he graciously piled their food into his bike basket along with his homemade goodies.

Bill and Ben had rigged the Clubhouse with a bunch of flashlights by the time the three had gotten there, most of them with colored paper over the tops of them to create colored beams of light on the walls and ceiling. It was still plenty bright out, but the lights definitely made the place look cool and lively. Ben had brought a boombox, and he and Bill were eagerly sharing and trading music cassettes even as the others looked around to appreciate the cool spotlights illuminating the room.

They’d laid a clean tarp over one elevated section of the ground to place the food on, a corner of it already being occupied with some chilled liters of soda, plastic cups, and a few water bottles. Eddie made a face when he realized they’d have to put the food on the ground, but he helped carry things down from Mike’s basket and carefully place them on the tarp anyway.

“This looks really great, guys,” Mike complimented, and Bill and Ben beamed matching grins as they stacked a queue of tapes to play throughout the party. Mike let Richie help carry down his small trays of food as Eddie cleared space for them, including biscuits and greens and macaroni and cheese. The last thing to come down was two small cakes, which he carried with one arm as he carefully came down into the Clubhouse.

“I forgot to ask which kind of cake everyone liked, so I made two. Chocolate and vanilla,” Mike said, revealing the cakes in disposable baking trays. They were covered in a generous amount of frosting, the chocolate cake decorated with icing to say “Happy Birthday Bev” and the vanilla cake decorated with “Beverly’s Sweet 18th”.

The Losers cheered and passed plates around, and Ben held up a flashlight between the cakes as they sang an off-tune happy birthday song. Richie was the one to take an exaggerated breath in and blow in Ben’s face, and Ben flickered the flashlight a few times before turning it off to simulate blowing out a candle. They all cheered again, and Mike cut into the cakes to serve everyone else before himself.

“Anyone want some m-more soda?” Bill asked a few hours later, after countless games, mindless chatter, and even a reverse dance battle to some of the more upbeat cassettes (in which the worst dancer won. They had never heard Mike laugh as hard as he did when Richie ate a mouthful of dirt trying to do the worm). Richie raised his empty cup at the same time as he carefully drew a card from the deck in the center of their circle.

“Thanks, Big Bill,” he said as Bill stepped around the others and their empty paper plates to take his cup. Bill’s hand of cards laid face down on the dirt, and Richie considered flipping them over before deciding not to and returning to his own cards.

“We really outdid ourselves,” Eddie commented, sipping out of a water bottle with one hand before setting it down to adjust his cards. He and Bill had had a race to chug a few full cups earlier, and Bill had won. “I’m still not over the flashlights.”

“It was Bill’s idea,” Ben admitted, glancing back to see Bill’s little smile at the credit. He grinned in return, then looked forward again to pay attention to the cards game they were playing. “I had some colored paper at home, and he knew what to do with it, like, immediately. Mike, any sevens?”

“I’ve got some sevens,” Mike sighed, but there was a smile on his face as he picked the cards out of his hand and handed them to Ben. Ben happily collected his four matching cards together and placed them down beside himself.

“Richie? Any fou—hm. Any queens?” Ben asked, and Richie grinned.

“Go fish,” he chirped, and Ben drew from the deck.

“I’m gl-gla—happy we’re ab-ble to throw this party,” Bill said after he’d filled their cups holding them both in one hand. Eddie didn’t notice, but Bill paused and went onto his tiptoes for a moment to look over his head. He looked at Richie across the room, holding up three fingers.

“Eddie, my love, do you have any threes?” Richie asked sweetly, and Eddie frowned at his hand before picking out a card and holding it out. Richie plucked it out of his friend’s fingers and set down his matching set, the picture of innocence. Bill held up five fingers next, before stepping around again to return to his spot. “Eds, any fives?”

“Dammit. Here. And don’t call me Eds.” Eddie handed over the rest of his three cards, completing another set. “Asshole.”

“Thanks for being a gracious and humble player,” Richie snorted, and Bill sat down, picking up his cards. “Mike, any… aces?”

“Go fish.” Richie sighed, then set his cards down. He reeled back and stacked his fists, flicking them forward as he made a “whoosh” sound with his mouth like he was casting a fishing line. Bill leaned over to offer Richie his cup of soda.

“You have to do that every time?” Mike chuckled, as Richie pretended to struggle a little before miming reeling in a fish. He drew five cards from the deck, then accepted his cup from Bill.

“We’re playing Go Fish, aren’t we? Them’s the rules, Michaelangelo,” Richie explained, looking through his new cards with one hand. He glanced over his hand to look at Eddie, who had a little smile on his face at his antics. When he met Richie’s gaze, he rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. Pleased, Richie wiggled a little to sit up a straighter.

“Can’t argue with that. Eddie, any twos?”

“Go fish. Bill, any tens?”

“Go fish,” Bill shook his head, and Eddie drew from the deck after Mike did. “Like I said, I’m hap-happy to throw this party with you guys. Good idea, Eddie. Any nines?”

“Thanks. I just thought it would be nice,” Eddie said as he gave Bill a card. A few other turns passed, backed by the soft sound of a song only Ben seemed to know. When it was his turn again, Eddie asked Ben for cards. Ben didn’t have them, but Eddie said anyway, “I’m having fun.”

“Me, too. Bev would love this. Stan, also,” Mike said, watching as Eddie drew from the deck. He looked through his hand as he took a sip of soda, then asked Richie for a card and got a groan in response. Mike grinned as he completed a set, and placed them down. “Bill? I’ll take those nines from you. Ben, I’ll take your four, too.”

“You’re ruthless,” Richie complained, absentmindedly shuffling through his hand. He thought for a second, but agreed with Mike as he watched him organize his stacks, then ask Eddie for a card. “And you’re right. Stan would probably cheat, though.”

“How do you cheat at Go Fish? Go fish, Mikey,” Eddie asked, a little bewildered, as he pointed Mike to the deck. “Also, give me your ace, Richie.”

“I dunno, he’d stuff some cards into his shower cap or something,” Richie guessed as he gave Eddie a card. Eddie put down a set, then drew the rest of the cards from the deck when Bill didn’t have anything he needed.

“Speaking of, you think any spiders have gotten into the food? We didn’t really save the covers for the trays,” Ben pointed out, glancing at the large tin of shower caps they hadn’t used since the few weeks after Stan left. Eddie looked through his hand, then squinted at the food.

“There better not be any spiders. I was gonna ask if I could take some food home,” he said. A few turns passed, and Bill ended up completing a set. Richie put down a set of his own with his last few cards, then leaned back with his hands on the dirty floor.

“Can we? Take some food home? I was g-gonna ask for some macaroni, Mikey.” Bill looked at his friend hopefully, and Mike’s shoulders squared a little in pride when the others murmured in agreement.

“Yeah, of course. Take whatever you guys want, I always have food at home. Perks of living on a farm.” He looked at Richie, then, a teasing twinkle in his eye. “Richie. You gotta let me make you a salad someday, man.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Richie snorted, and Mike rolled his eyes in good nature.

“You ate, like, a quarter of the fries, Rich,” Ben chuckled, taking a card from Eddie and making one last set with the rest of his cards.

“No one appreciates the endless void that is my stomach.” Richie patted his belly. Bill, Eddie, and Mike quickly wrapped up the game.

“I’m gonna make you take a plate of those greens home, Greasy McGee.” Richie grinned at Eddie’s blatant self-invitation to Richie’s house, even though they’d discussed it yesterday. “Also, I’ve got two sets total.”

“I have one,” Bill sighed, but smiled as he held out his hand to allow the others to stack their sets. Eddie, then Ben, then Richie.

“Four,” Mike chuckled, gently placing his sets at the top of the pile. “I win.”

“Again? Good game!” Ben congratulated, clapping quietly a few times, and Mike pretended to bow a little as the rest of them joined in. Richie threw a tiny pebble in celebration, and they cheered when it harmlessly bounced off Mike’s shoulder.

Curfew crept up quickly, but it didn’t take much time to clean up. Mike let everyone take whatever leftovers they wanted, separating everything into plates topped with another plate. They shoved the trash into the garbage bag Ben usually kept in the Clubhouse, and turned off all the flashlights—after they flickered all of them on and off, of course, grinning and laughing at the strobe effect now that it was a little darker out and the beams of light were more pronounced.

They decided to leave the flashlights and boombox, and Ben and Bill carefully tucked their cassettes into their backpacks. Mike threw the trash bag up through the Clubhouse opening, then climbed up so the others could pass up their plates before they followed. Eddie kept most of the powdered donuts, and had piled whatever food he wanted onto Richie’s plate of leftovers.

They all biked languidly down the main road after finding a dumpster for their trash, talking and joking together as the sun continued to sink down. It was when the streets noticeably became more empty that they all biked to the Hanlon farm’s road. They waved goodbye and shouted their last thank yous to Mike as he pedaled away, then the four of them turned around to head back.

They all biked together to Ben’s house, then Bill’s, giving similar farewells to both of them. Richie and Eddie kept up the chatter for another minute, but fell into a comfortable quiet on their way to Richie’s house. Maggie and Went were delighted to see Eddie come over with permission, and gladly let Eddie borrow the house phone to check up on his mother.

“We’re all at the Toziers,” he confirmed for the third time over the course of the phone call. Richie was perched at the bottom of the brightly-lit stairs, watching Eddie speak into the phone that was just outside of the kitchen. He was fairly sure Sonia was taking care to drag the phone call out as long as she possibly could, but it had only been a few minutes. “Yes, mommy, Mr. and Mrs. Tozier are home. They greeted us at the door.”

Richie yawned a little and slumped against the wall, crossing his arms as he spread his legs out. Eddie nodded into the phone for a few seconds before his face scrunched up a little, and he looked over to frown at Richie. Sonia was probably ragging on him again, something like “You know I don’t like that dirty, dirty Tozier boy,” or “He’ll give you cooties and AIDS and flu, Eddie-bear!” Maybe both.

Joke’s on her, he thought as he smiled and lifted a hand to wave at Eddie. His friend’s face softened a little, and he waved back before turning away to talk into the receiver again. I might be dirty, but Eddie sure doesn’t mind. And that’s all that matters.

“I know, I’ll be up early for school tomorrow. I did all my homework.” Eddie did not, in fact, do all his homework. He’d bummed off of Richie’s again. Richie really didn’t mind, but he really had to teach this boy some actual math before their quiz on Friday. “Yeah. Yes, I have my toothbrush and nighttime toothpaste. Yes, and pajamas. Yes, and I brought my blanket and my pillowcase and an extra blanket, just in case.”

Richie would’ve been amused if he hadn’t been so bored. When Eddie had gone back to nodding wordlessly, Richie stood up and waved to get his attention again. Eddie gave him a thumbs-up when he mouthed “I’ll shower,” and Richie headed upstairs to shower and get ready for bed. By the time he was done, Eddie was just coming up the stairs. Richie peeked out of his bedroom at the soft sound of footsteps, rubbing a towel over his wet hair.

“Yeesh,” he greeted when Eddie stepped into his room. He was stretching his arms out, probably a little sore from having to hold up the phone for so long, and moved over to where he’d left his overnight bag next to his backpack. He rummaged through it, brow a little furrowed. “You all good?”

“I’m good,” Eddie sighed in return, and glanced up and down at Richie in his sleeping clothes. Richie looked down at himself, too, but didn’t notice whether anything stood out. “I didn’t actually pack all my stuff, and I forgot to bring pajamas. Can I borrow clothes?”

“Yeah, dude, go for it.” Richie barely made it through half of his sentence before Eddie was at his closet, stretching his arms out all the way to move hangers around. Richie sat on his bed, towel on his head, as he watched Eddie grab a soft shirt and then rummage through the small drawers at the bottom to find a pair of boxers. “I’ll wait here.”

Eddie took longer than Richie to get ready, which was expected, but not very convenient after a really long day of biking and eating and socializing. Richie reread about half a comic before dozing, but he managed to wake up when his door opened up. Eddie stepped in, locking it behind him and traipsing across the room to stuff his laundry into his bag.

“C’mon, Eds, I’m pooped,” Richie sighed, lazily reaching out to set the comic on his bedside, where he’d already turned the lamp on, before wiggling himself over to leave room on the bed. He pulled the covers back and patted the space next to him, watching as Eddie rolled his eyes and went back across the room to flick off the lightswitch.

“Don’t be such a baby, Rich,” Eddie mumbled even as he yawned. Richie yawned right after, and Eddie finally slid under the sheets to lie next to him. He took Richie’s glasses off his face in one swift movement, folding and placing them gently onto the comic. The boys shuffled onto their sides, facing each other, and Richie let his long legs tangle themselves in Eddie’s.

“You smell like my soap,” Richie hummed tiredly, tucking both hands underneath his pillow. Eddie tucked one hand beneath but kept the other one on top, as per usual.

“Wonder why,” Eddie whispered, and Richie snickered. He wanted to keep talking, he felt like this sleepover was way too short, but he knew both of them were extra exhausted after such an eventful day. “Go to sleep. School tomorrow.”

“I had fun today,” Richie said honestly, letting his eyes drift shut. “I like hanging out with you and our friends. We probably threw Bev, like, the best birthday party ever.”

“We probably did,” Eddie agreed, and his hand on the underside of the pillow slid over to touch Richie’s. He sighed and deflated a little, like that tiny bit of contact took a heavy weight off his chest. “Too bad she and Stan weren’t there to see it.”

“We should be grateful though. They would’ve smoked us in Go Fish.”

“Oh yeah, totally. You suck at Go Fish.”

“I literally won way more games than you.”

“You probably cheated.”

“Did not.” Richie thought of the way Bill would glance at Eddie’s cards every time he got up to fill a cup and tell Richie what cards he had.

“You’re fucking smiling, dumbass, you cheated.” When Richie opened his eyes a little, though, Eddie had a smile on his face. Richie didn’t think he minded all that much. “Go to sleep.”

Richie hummed in response, and observed Eddie’s half-blurry features with half-lidded eyes instead. He noticed while looking at his best friend’s eyes that Eddie was looking right back, and that despite the exhaustion of the day, neither of them wanted it to end. A few seconds passed, or maybe a few minutes, or maybe a few years.

“Hey,” Richie whispered lowly.

“Shut up,” Eddie mumbled back.

“Can we kiss?” Richie asked, and Eddie gave him a lazy blink and half-smile in response. Richie moved, propping himself up on one elbow and moving his other arm across Eddie to brace himself on the bed so he could lean over the brunet. Eddie’s hand came up to cup Richie’s cheek, and when they kissed, he sighed through his nose in appreciation.

Their mouths were already a little dry with the urge to sleep, and it was barely energetic enough to really be considered making out; it was more like a long goodnight kiss, all patient slotting of their lips and slow tilts of their heads and quiet hums of content. Richie relaxed a little more with each passing second, melting down to lay over Eddie with his hand eventually finding a place on Eddie’s waist.

“G’night, Richie,” Eddie breathed after an eternity, his hand having moved from Richie’s cheek to hook under his arm and around his back. It was a warm, comforting weight, and it made Richie that much more tired.

“‘Night, Eds,” Richie managed, already on the brink of passing out. Eddie gently stroked his fingers over the soft space between Richie’s shoulder blade and his spine, and by the time he was done, they were both fast asleep.

Richie and Eddie were so worn out, they both chose to ignore the alarm clock when it went off the next morning. Eddie has just buried his face further into Richie’s shirt, and Richie tightened his hold on his friend to accommodate. They were drifting back off to sleep to the rhythmic blaring of the clock when Maggie knocked on the door loud enough to make the both of them jump.

“Boys? You awake?” she called, and Richie answered in a long, pained groan, punctuated with a mucusy cough. Eddie’s eyes were still closed, but he furrowed his brows in disgust. “Alright. I’ll have breakfast ready for you before you go.”

“Get off me, Eds,” Richie said bearily when his mom’s footsteps grew quiet, and Eddie rolled away without a word. He curled up tight, taking the blankets with him and leaving Richie suddenly exposed to the crisp morning air. “Fuck, asshole, it’s fucking cold.”

“Who’s fault is that?” Eddie grumbled, like Richie had any part in deciding the weather for the day. Richie sat up and looked down at his blurry best friend, who was hiding his face, but Richie heard his scowl when he grumbled, “Wake me up when you brush your teeth.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Richie knew Eddie would give him shit for letting him sleep for too long, so he rolled out of bed and made quick work of using the bathroom after a few seconds of finding his glasses. He tore the blankets off Eddie when he came back, and Eddie was too tired to make his grumbles coherent, but managed a good amount of cuss words between yawns as he trudged into the hall.

He was always so grumpy when he woke up, but Richie couldn’t help his grin as Eddie padded back into the room and glared at Richie until he turned around. Richie patiently stared at the wall while Eddie got dressed, then laughed when a balled up sock flew past his head and hit the wall. When he turned, Eddie nailed his face with the second sock, and giggled about it for the next few minutes.

Later, Maggie greeted them with pancakes small enough to fit into the palm of Richie’s hands. She only offered a sigh when he shoved three into his mouth all at once. Eddie ate them with a fork, politely thanking her for the breakfast and flushing pink when she tucked a lunch bag into his backpack just as she did for Richie.

When they got to school, Bill was just chaining his bike to the rack at the front. They greeted him happily, and Ben showed up soon after. They walked in together, deep in conversation by the time they noticed the assault pinks and reds spread across the hallway and paused. Derry High was around the same size as the middle school, but it had a much bigger main hall, which was currently decorated with streamers and posters and hearts.

“Oh, happy Valentine’s Day, guys,” Ben said kindly, not too put off by the decorations.

“I just remembered how little I see the color pink, and I sorta wish I could forget again,” Richie quipped.

“It’s not b-b-bad,” Bill said, glancing around a bit before continuing. The others started walking along with him, Bill and Ben in the front and Richie and Eddie behind them so they wouldn’t block the hall.

“There was supposed to be a Valentine’s dance, I think,” Eddie said, brows a little pinched. He spotted a pink poster on one of the large cork boards right next to the lockers, and tugged Bill and Ben’s sleeve. “Look, there.”

“Yeah,” Ben confirmed, glancing at his friends like he’d seen the poster countless times. “It’s in the gym, I think, and the junior class was in charge of decorating. Should we go?”

“No way,” Richie snorted, already turned away from the poster. “That’s, like, the girliest shit ever. Valentine’s Day is just a way to rake in a fuckton of money with chocolates and roses and crap.”

“There’s free stuff,” Bill offered, pointing out the part in the poster highlighting provided refreshments and food. Admission was two dollars at the door, though, and Richie somehow felt even less interested. “None of us had any p-plans anyway. Right?”

They all looked at each other a little awkwardly, as if one of them could have a secret date the rest of them didn’t know about. Of course, none of them did.

“Guests are allowed, too,” Ben said. Bill blinked at the poster for a second before Ben pointed at it. “We could invite Mike. He’s never been to our school before. He couldn’t make it to prom, remember?”

“Why would Mike want to come to a junior-made girl dance on a Monday? Why would any of us want to go to this thing even if it wasn’t on a Monday?” Richie asked incredulously, a little amazed that they were even considering attending.

“Why wouldn’t we?” The three of them looked at Eddie with a little surprise, and he crossed his arms. “We should do it.”

“What? We just found out about this thing today. Ben didn’t even mention it, that’s how unimportant it was.” He pointed at Ben, who looked between the two with an expression like he didn’t want to get involved in… whatever this was.

“Yeah, and I want to go,” Eddie shot back, glaring at Richie. He was a little speechless at the sudden aggression, and resorted to looking at the other two as if to say, “What did I do?” Instead, Bill and Ben glanced at each other before shrugging a little.

“It could b-be fun,” Bill offered, a little smile on his face at the thought of spending time with his friends.

“I think I have a few nice shirts. It says it’s semi-formal,” Ben read off the paper, his mind seemingly already made up.

“Then we’re going,” Eddie confirmed, a little flush to his cheeks. He kept his glare on Richie, who was feeling very attacked and very confused. Finally, Eddie looked away to smile at Bill and Ben. “We should call Mike after school, then.”

“I am not going to a Valentine’s Day dance,” Richie exclaimed, but his friends were too busy talking about the dance to pay him any mind.

At seven in the evening, the Losers greeted Mike as he stepped out of an old, but well-loved truck. He was in nice, black slacks and a white cotton button-up, similar to Bill, except Bill had a red clip-on bowtie he’d bought for cheap somewhere in town after school. A light jacket hung over Mike’s arm, but he didn’t seem to need it yet.

“We haven’t seen the t-truck in a while,” Bill said, grinning as he watched Mike slide the keys into his pocket. The gym parking lot was brightly lit, and a few police officers were standing around in order to make sure no one snuck away to wander the town after curfew. Richie thought the lights made Mike’s smile look brighter than it actually happened to be, but maybe it was just like that.

“Man, how’s she doing? You have her for the whole night?” Richie asked, suddenly very aware of how long it’s been since he got behind a wheel. His dad would take him to get his license soon, since Richie had already driven around town a few times with a driver’s permit. He was a natural, Went had said, patting his shoulder hard enough to make him stumble in the driveway.

“Sure do. She’s doing good,” Mike chirped, spreading his arms a little bit. Richie noticed a pink tie dangling in Mike’s hand. “Are my clothes okay? I’ve never needed to dress up, so I borrowed my grandfather’s clothes.”

“You look great, Mike,” Ben offered, and beamed when Mike complimented him back. Ben was the most dressed up out of all of them, wearing black slacks and a red button-up with a black tie. He was the only one of them who wore a belt, which had a silver buckle that gleamed in the artificial light. His hair was even a little styled, gelled back all neat and sprayed into place.

Richie had always thought he was cute in a sort of sibling way, like Stan had been, but tonight he’d already made a few “Ben Handsome” jokes. He planned to make more throughout the dance, both because it was funny to make Ben blush and because he really did look nice. Plus, his name was an easy rhyme.

“Should we head to the gym?” Mike asked, and Bill nodded and started to lead the way. He, Mike, and Ben talked as they walked, and Richie let himself trail behind alongside Eddie. His best friend had been quiet even before Mike showed up, and Richie had yet to talk to him about it.

“What do you think of Mike’s outfit?” he offered, and Eddie barely looked at him to respond besides a millisecond glance through his long lashes, a smug little smile on his face.

“Nicer than yours,” was the reply. Richie bumped into him a little, and grinned when Eddie bumped him back hard enough to throw off his balance.

Richie had focused more on the “semi” in “semi-formal”. Maggie had been excited to hear about the dance when Eddie followed Richie home to get his overnight bag and mentioned it to her when she greeted them. She’d insisted he wear a pink shirt for the Valentine’s theme, originally one of his dad’s white business shirts that had gotten caught in the same wash as a bright red sweater.

She even wrapped him up in one of Went’s bowties (an actual bowtie, not even a clip-on!). Richie had won the battle against dress pants and ended up in black jeans, only because he let his mom take pictures of him in his little outfit without a fight.

The others had nice shoes, but Richie wore his normal, worn sneakers. His shirt was halfway untucked and his bowtie was already undone somehow, and despite Maggie’s efforts, he hadn’t taken a brush to his hair. She at least got him to move the overgrown locks out of his face, and his curls were tugged into a low ponytail behind his head. A few curls had fallen out of the hair tie and got in his eyes a few times, though, so the ponytail’s purpose was defeated.

Eddie wore nice black slacks like the others did, and his shoes were the shiniest out of all of them. He had a white shirt and red bowtie (the clip-on Bill had purchased came in a set), along with bright red suspenders. His jacket was red, too, and hung neatly from his shoulders even though Eddie hadn’t put his arms in the sleeves. His hair was styled as neat as Ben’s, but more casual.

“Am I allowed to know why you wanted to show up so badly?” Richie asked, quieter this time, and Eddie slowed a little. Richie slowed as well, letting the other three Losers gain a few feet ahead of them. “Eds?”

“I dunno, I… I just wanted, like, you know, to—I mean, how couples—” he struggled a little more, and Richie was too confused to ask what Eddie meant. He’d rarely seen him so tongue-tied before, but the shade of pink his face was getting was nice to look at. “I just wished we could, uh… That you could…”

“That I could what?” Richie asked, and Eddie decidedly refused to meet his gaze.

“That we—That you could ask me?” he said, more of a question than anything.

“Huh?” Their pace slowed again as Richie tried to make sense of Eddie’s words. He suddenly stopped, and Eddie nearly tripped over his own two feet to turn and face Richie, looking like a blushing deer in headlights. “You mean—What, like, you wished I could ask you to the dance?”

“Maybe,” Eddie said dumbly. Richie stared, eyes probably as wide as Eddie’s, and heat creeping up to his face as well. He barely noticed over the top of Eddie’s head that their friends had noticed them so far behind.

“Rich? Eddie?” Ben called, waving a little. He looked eager to go on, and Bill and Mike bounced on their feet like they were a little impatient, too. “You coming?”

“Uh, yeah,” Richie called after a second, not even looking at them, and Eddie stared back for a second. Then he whipped around to nod at the Losers once. Eddie marched on, and Richie was a little startled by the sudden movement before he started rushing to catch up.

“You guys okay?” Bill asked, and they both agreed profusely. Mike gave them a weird, confused smile, but none of them pried. Eddie didn’t look at Richie for a little while, still flustered, and Richie tried (and failed) to act like he wasn’t staring at Eddie for a few minutes straight.

They reached the gym by the time Mike fixed his pink tie and shrugged his jacket over his shoulders, and they each paid the peppy junior girl at the door two dollars. The inside of the gym was dim, and large pink lights were set up near the walls to point up at the ceiling. There were a few boys messing around one of them, shoving each other into the bright beam, and others crowded around another light to have lively chatter.

Richie glanced at Eddie, who was looking around with the same awkward energy as the rest of the Losers. When Eddie caught him looking, he stuck his tongue out. Richie stuck his tongue out right back, and Eddie grinned at him. As the other Losers kept eyeing the gym, Eddie’s hand moved to grip RIchie’s sleeve.

The bleachers had more students talking and joking with each other, punch and snacks in their hands, and Bill glanced over his shoulder to nod for his friends to follow him. The Losers moved to an empty spot halfway up the bleachers, and they all sat down, already chattering excitedly.

“I’m already so excited to be here, I think I just pissed my pants,” Richie said in faux-excitement, trying to reestablish his place in the conversation. Ben snickered as Eddie lightly elbowed Richie in disgust.

“Beep, beep, idiot,” he said, snorting, and then yelping when Richie swiftly snapped one of the red straps over his chest. “Ow, you fucking asshole, you’re going to stretch out my fucking suspenders!”

“That sentence was literally the dumbest thing you’ve ever said. Hey, hey, ow!” Richie laughed when Eddie started slapping at his arms and chest, then snatched his arms away when Richie tried to grab onto him. Richie poked at his side instead, and Eddie barked out a laugh.

“It’s not so b-b-b—geez, I can’t—It isn’t horrible,” Bill was looking out at the gym floor, then at the entrance, where more people were trailing in. Richie kicked at Eddie’s shiny shoes, and Eddie practically launched backwards to get enough space to kick at Richie’s knee. “I guess more people are going to show up later. Look, everyone’s just hav-having fun.”

“It’s pretty nice in here. The juniors decorated everything well,” Ben said, obviously excited. Eddie tried to get at Richie’s glasses next, but Richie managed to dodge his attempts. He jerked his head forward and feigned biting at his friend’s fingers, opening and closing his mouth with clacks of his teeth until Eddie snatched his hands away with a laugh. “And I’m pretty sure Belch and Criss and whoever wouldn’t care about coming. Look, it’s mostly couples and girls with their friends.”

“That’s the real reason you wanted to come, huh?” Richie sat on the bleacher above Ben, and playfully nudged Ben’s shoulder with his knee when he and Eddie finally settled down. “Cute girls and no bullies? Didn’t realize you were planning on getting some action tonight, Handsome.” Ben flushed and laughed him off, looking off to the side.

They hadn’t gone to any school dances this year, ever since Mike hadn’t been able to show up to junior prom. They’d spent half the dance wishing he could have come, until finally Eddie got sick of it and convinced them all to sneak out and run to the Hanlon farm, formal attire and all. Mike had fed them dinner leftovers that night, and Richie called his parents to pick them all up and bring them home. It was a nice night.

“The gym looks bigger on the inside,” Mike commented, looking around the building with a smile on his face. He looked like he was having the time of his life just sitting there with the rest of them, and, okay, maybe that made Richie a little happy about showing up.

“Should we get some p-punch soon? When the line clears up?” Bill offered, and the group agreed. The group wandered around for most of the night, drinking punch and sitting back at the bleachers with snacks and even dancing a little when the gym’s energy picked up. They became more relaxed as the night went on, with no evidence of any bullies crashing the dance and no classmates paying them much attention.

Mike seemed to be having a lot of fun, and he turned out to be the best dancer out of all of them. He moved fluidly, and when he was doing a goofy dance move, he beamed bright when it drew laughs from his friends. Bill stuck especially close to Mike’s side, and Richie thought his face must have stung with the amount of smiling he was doing.

Ben was less eager to dance, but loosened up when Eddie would shuffle and fist pump without much grace, but with an incredible amount of confidence. He and Ben were headbanging enough that their hair gel lost its hold, but neither of them seemed to mind. Richie managed to get his hands on Eddie’s head exactly once, and he’d shrieked at him until Richie had to lean on Mike during his laughing fit.

Richie was, undeniably, the worst dancer. He reveled in the laughs he got from his friends. At some point, he got Bill to air guitar as he banged invisible drums to an especially upbeat song. They had a tight circle formed, Mike usually ending up in the middle as they cheered him on, with Eddie shaking Richie whenever he wanted to watch him dance, too. They were probably the rowdiest in the gym, and laughed the whole way off the dance floor when a slow dance finally interrupted them.

Mike didn’t get to sit down for long, though. He and Eddie were laughing at something Richie said when a girl came up to the group, a short junior student with braided, blonde hair. Mike looked up at her when she made her presence known, surprised at first, but offering a smile.

“You’re the-the Hanlon boy, right?” she started shyly, and he nodded. Before they knew it, Mike was asked to dance, and ended up grinning up at them from the gym floor where the girl’s hands rested on his shoulders and his hands respectfully held her waist. They were swaying to the slow song being played, and when he looked down at her to say something, she even laughed.

Richie eyed Mike’s straight pink tie, his neat hair, the sleeves of his shirt folded up to the elbow. Of course he’d get a girl to dance with him. The four of them on the bleachers watched their friend, a little bewildered, but more amused than anything. Richie feigned applause when Mike glanced up at them again. Eddie followed suit and gave a silent cheer.

“Look at that guy. He doesn’t even go here, and girls are just lining up,” Richie chuckled, and the others grinned at each other. Another few girls came up just then, and soon, Bill was the one being led to the dance floor by a girl in glasses. They were less smooth than Mike had been, especially since he was dancing with a girl he didn’t know at all, but the pair fell into a rhythm eventually.

“Okay, wow. Girls really take this Valentine’s thing seriously, huh?” Eddie agreed with Richie, looking down at his friends with a tilted head.

“Ben Hanscom?” Ben looked up, surprised, at a cute brunette with a pretty pink dress. Her hands were folded in front of her.

“Uh, yeah?” Ben was already shrinking into himself, assuming the worst, but the girl looked even more shy than he did. Richie and Eddie shared a glance.

“Would you like to dance with me?” she asked, and Ben gaped for a second. He pointed at himself, and she nodded.

“Are you—Uh, you sure?” he asked, and Richie and Eddie eyed the girl warily, ready to defend their friend if it came down to it. “With me?”

“Yes, with you. I want to.” She got a little pink in the face, then. “Oh, but if-if you don’t want to, I understand, I can just—”

“Oh, no, no, no, I just—If you’re sure! I’d love to dance with you.” Ben scrambled up to his feet, and the girl put a girl over her heart with a relieved look. She carefully rested her hands on his elbow when he offered it, and they walked off just as Richie heard her complimenting his shirt.

Richie and Eddie watched them join the rest of the couples on the dance floor, ending up near Bill and the girl who giggled when he stuttered through a sentence. Richie figured now was a good time to talk to Eddie. It felt like he hadn't gotten a good word in the whole night, what with all the dancing.

"So, Eds," he started, but Eddie was already downing the rest of the punch in his cup as he stood, with his red jacket in the other. He’d taken it off earlier during their dancing, and his dumb suspenders were on full display. Richie frowned, then Eddie kicked his worn sneaker with a shiny little shoe as he slipped his jacket on.

“There are girls who are looking over at us. Do you want to go to the bathroom with me?” he asked, his eyes flitting to his right. Richie noticed a couple of girls giggling to each other as they started to approach, and his hand held his own cup of punch a little tighter.

“What, you too shy to spend time with the ladies?” Richie teased, even as he stood and followed Eddie down the bleachers. He glanced at the girls as they went, who stopped to watch them leave. Richie would have felt bad, but he imagined one of them asking Eddie to dance and immediately quickened his stride.

“Come on, come on,” Eddie giggled, passing a trash can on the way to the restroom near the entrance of the gym. Richie quickly downed the rest of his drink, the punch sweet and strong on his tongue, before tossing his cup into the trash after Eddie’s. They speedwalked past people who weren’t interested in where they were going, and Richie couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he slid into the bathroom with Eddie.

“Oh, it’s like a whole different world in here,” he commented when the heavy door swung shut behind them. They moved to the wall, finding all the stalls and urinals unoccupied. He looked at Eddie, who was eyeing the door with a little smile on his face. Eddie liked being quick, and Richie grinned when his best friend met his eyes. “Did you plan past this point, or did you just want to run?”

“It’s not like I had a choice,” Eddie said, meaning he just wanted to run. He started to lean back against the tiled wall, then seemed to think better of it and stood up straight again. “I didn’t feel like dancing.”

“Me neither,” Richie lied, then heard some footsteps outside the door. Eddie heard it at the same time, and they looked at each other with wide eyes before rushing away to the handicap stall at the back of the restroom.

The door swung open just as they locked the stall door, grinning and shoving at each other as they tried not to laugh. They stayed quiet, making faces at each other when they heard the sound of whoever it was pissing, then the flush of the urinal, followed by (thankfully) the rushing water of the sink. The person left, and they burst into quiet giggles when the door swung shut.

“Why did we hide?” Eddie snickered, pressing close to Richie’s side without touching the wall.

“I don’t know, I followed you,” Richie said, shoving his glasses up his face.

“I followed you,” Eddie shot back, and they started laughing all over again.

The lighting in the bathroom was much different than the lighting in the gym: there were harsh fluorescent tubes in here, for one. Richie had caught a glance of his reflection in the mirror when they entered, and the lights casted harsh shadows of his glasses onto his face. It was startlingly bright after spending hours in dim, rosy light.

Even then, he thought it looked good on Eddie. He liked being able to see all the details of the boy’s face—every freckle, every eyelash, every loose strand of gelled hair falling over his forehead, every little shadow when he smiled so hard, his eyes creased. Richie hoped Eddie got those permanent smile wrinkles when he grew up.

Eddie caught him staring, still huffing out the last of his laughter, and grinned. Richie felt his face heat up a little at how happy he looked, even happier than when Mike did the dumb lawnmower dance in the middle of their circle and Eddie nearly fell over when Richie tried to copy him. He felt like he’d do anything to see Eddie this happy for the rest of his life.

A beat passed before Richie suddenly gained the rest of his senses, and the slow music from the gym flooded his ears even through the muffling restroom door. His mouth had fallen into a dopey little smile at the sight of Eddie obviously enjoying himself, but his grin came back at full force when he straightened and offered a hand.

“Eddie Kaspbrak?” Before Eddie could reply, Richie practically threw his top half down with his arm still extended. “May I have this dance?” Eddie paused for a second, surprised, then laughed again. The sound bounced off tile and graffitied stalls, and Richie snorted at the bathroom tile he was staring at.

“That was dumb,” Eddie chuckled, taking Richie’s hand and tugging him up to stand. He clasped their hands together and put his other on Richie’s shoulder. When all Richie did was stare again, Eddie rolled his eyes and took his friend’s other hand to place it on his own waist. His hand moved back to Richie’s shoulder, closer to his neck this time. “You’re so dumb.”

“You’re the one dancing with me.”

“We’re doing more standing than dancing.”

Richie took that as cue to sway a little, and even though he’d meant it as a joke, he started to like this. Eddie matched him and the muffled song’s rhythm, lightly stepping side-to-side a few times before starting to turn. Eddie’s face relaxed a little, and he sighed a little as he let his head fall onto Richie’s chest. Richie could feel him relax, and had to look at the ceiling to get a sense of which way was up.

“You tired from all those shenanigans on the dance floor?” he said, quieter than he meant to. Eddie hummed a little, letting Richie lead him right, then left, then right.

“A little. The dance is ending soon, I think.” Richie made a sound to prompt him to continue, so Eddie did. “‘s probably why they’re playing slow songs now. Get everyone relaxed a little before they ramp up the energy one last time.”

“Didn’t know they planned it like that.” Richie never bothered to pay attention to the music at whatever school dances he and the others had decided to attend. Eddie shifted his head a little, so his cheek was pressed to Richie’s chest instead of his forehead. “Getting real comfortable there, Eds.”

“You like it,” Eddie snorted, and Richie laughed, feeling Eddie smile against his bouncing chest. He let go of his hand to slip his arms around Eddie’s waist instead, and Eddie slid his arms over Richie’s shoulders in response. They were infinitely closer like this, barely able to move now that their torsos were pressed together, but neither of them minded.

Richie did like it, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Instead, he sighed a little and rested his chin on Eddie’s hand. He thought about Eddie getting all worked up earlier, stumbling and stuttering over his words before. He’d been so upset when Richie didn’t want to come because he wanted Richie to be able to ask him to the dance.

Like other couples, Richie remembered. Were they a couple? Did Eddie want to be a couple? Holy shit, the idea of it made him get a little sweaty. Was it hot in this bathroom, or was it just him?

Eddie sighed quietly, seemingly content and completely oblivious to the buzzing of Richie’s head. Richie screwed his eyes shut for a second, then let out a silent breath before opening them again.

Richie agreed with Eddie. He wished they could dance in the gym, with all the other couples, so he could show off how close they were. He wished he could see how the dim, pink lights looked on Eddie’s hair, just so he could bury his face into it.

He pressed a kiss to Eddie’s hair and felt him melt into his chest a little more. The fluorescent lights still stung a little, and the music was barely audible, and each step in the silent stall was a little too loud to be ignored; but Richie decided dancing alone was just as special as dancing in front of everyone else. Eddie’s the only one I want to impress, anyway, he figured. For now, he hoped Eddie wasn’t disappointed, He hoped Eddie felt the same way.

That week, Richie tutored Eddie for the math quiz that turned out to be a big test. Eddie was nervous and snippy the day it was supposed to be graded until he saw the big red A on his paper. The Losers congratulated Eddie and even gave Richie a few pats on the back, even though he usually got As to start off with.

Eddie was stuck at home for most of his eighteenth birthday the next month, but Richie opened the door to him grinning with a plate of cake in his hands later that night. Maggie and Went let Eddie stay over, and they stayed up till past midnight to cheer in whispers when Richie turned eighteen, too.

They invited Mike in advance to prom, and he was able to make it this time. They had actual, fancy suits, and met up at Richie’s house to take pictures. Mike had picked up the others, but Ben’s parents insisted on driving him to the Toziers so they could take pictures, too. He and Eddie didn’t dance in the restroom like they did on Valentine’s, but they stuck by each other’s sides the whole night and cheered when Mike got swept away by a pretty girl again.

“I want to do this all the time,” Eddie breathed the night after the dance, their mouths separating so they could catch their breaths. Richie wished he didn’t have to breathe. His hand tangled at Eddie’s hair at the back of his head, where he’d been holding him against his lips to make their mouths tingle. His other hand rested on Eddie’s thigh. Eddie was sitting between Richie’s legs, but slung his own legs over Richie’s hips.

“We can, if you want,” Richie murmured, Eddie’s hand splayed over Richie’s undershirt. They were still mostly in their suits, but Richie had unbuttoned his shirt sometime near the end of the dance. Eddie giggled a little, softerfar than the belly laughs he’d been doing for most of the night, and kissed him sweetly. It was chaste, but Richie tilted his head up to follow his mouth before Eddie pulled away enough to grin at him.

“I wish,” Eddie said, running his hands down Richie’s chest, his stomach, then around to his waist. His big brown eyes followed his own hands, watching himself touch Richie, but Richie stared into Eddie’s eyes the whole time. Had his lashes gotten longer?

“We should,” Richie tried again, and Eddie just offered another smile that was a little sad this time. Richie frowned a little, and Eddie leaned in to brush their lips together just softly. It was enough to wipe the frown from his face, but there was still a little crease in Richie’s brow. “Why not?”

“Your hair’s gotten longer.” It felt important, the reason why Eddie was shying away from an answer, but Richie didn’t want to make a fuss. It was prom night. Eddie would tell him whatever it was whenever he wanted to. Richie brought his hand up from Eddie’s thigh to run a hand through his own messy hair, which he’d been tying up a lot more lately.

“Yeah? Think Mrs. K would want to give me a haircut just like yours?” Richie realized, even as he said it, that Eddie’s mom might be part of the reason Eddie was being cagey all of the sudden, but Eddie snorted. He let go of Richie’s waist to run his hands over Richie’s hair himself, prompting Richie to let his own hand drop. Eddie brushed the black curls away from his face and reached behind Richie’s head, working slowly and calmly.

Eddie leaned in close as he carefully tugged out the hair tie, his chest radiating warmth right at Richie’s face, and Richie felt himself go lax at the feeling of Eddie’s soft fingers running over his scalp. He sighed and let his eyes slip shut as Eddie brushed out his hair a little with his hands, then gently collected it back into the hair tie. He’d had trouble with it at first, but over the past few weeks, Richie liked to let Eddie tie his hair back. Eddie leaned back again, and Richie hesitantly blinked his eyes open.

“You looked really good tonight, Rich,” Eddie said, and Richie could have died happy right that second. Instead, he moved his hands around to the base of Eddie’s spine and the back of his neck, and drew him in to make their lips meet again. Eddie grinned against him at first, cupping Richie’s face with both hands and letting Richie smile back so their teeth clacked together. Then Eddie melted a little closer, and they let their expressions fall a little so they could kiss each other properly.

Senior year picked up its pace, and soon, the Losers were flooded with homework and exams and sleepless nights. Even then, they studied together, visited Mike when he was able to accommodate them, and studied some more. Mike’s workload had started to increase with the approach of summer, too, but they made the time to hang together. No one said it, but it felt like their time was running out.

“I’m leaving soon,” Eddie told him one day, and Richie knew deep down in his gut everything would come to an end, but he didn’t think it would happen this soon. They were in the Clubhouse, and the other Losers hadn’t been able to hang out much today. Richie and Eddie had spent some time with their friends after school, but mostly had the afternoon to themselves. “Right after graduation.”

Richie didn’t know what to say. He didn’t really want to say anything, as if not acknowledging the conversation would make it stop. He was in the hammock, and Eddie hadn’t joined him. Instead, Eddie was sitting on the floor across the room, knees up to his chest, his face already going red like he was trying not to cry. He looked so small.

“... Why?” Richie asked finally. He stared at Eddie, but Eddie didn’t look back at him. He was looking down at the dirt and dust-covered ground, toeing at the filth with his sneaker. Eddie’s face twitched, and Richie’s mouth fell open. It was like he meant to say something, but he couldn’t come up with any words. He could make a joke here: I always figured you would make me speechless one day, Eds, but I gotta say, what I imagined had way more smooching.

“My mom,” Eddie said, because why else? Richie wasn’t surprised, but at the same time, he didn’t see this coming at all. He must have been so deep in denial, he didn’t even realize he was drowning in it. “She wants to move. New York, I think, she didn’t tell me much.”

“Probably because she doesn’t want you to tell us,” Richie said. He meant to sound mean, and angry, and rude, but his voice came out entirely too flat and sad. “Eddie. You can’t.”

“I have to.” The tears finally came, Eddie’s round babyface quickly becoming stained with tears that he tried to wipe away, but couldn’t get rid of. “Richie—”

“No. No, no, no, let’s—Eds, we can figure it out,” he offered, sounding a little more sharp. Richie didn’t dare blink, and he imagined his eyes looked huge behind his magnifying coke-bottle lenses. “Eddie, we can run.”

“Where would we run?” Eddie choked out, and Richie shook his head as if to shake the sound out of his head. “Richie, I just wanted to tell you first. I couldn’t—I needed you to know first. I almost told you after—after prom, but I didn’t. And then there was barely any time after that, we barely got to hang out together, and I-I didn’t… I...”

“Did I tell you my dad is this close to giving me his truck? He wants to get a new one, it-it was going to be my graduation present, finally, if you could just come over after graduation, then we could make it. We could run.” Richie swung his legs off the hammock, nearly falling out of it.

“We can’t,” Eddie said, stupidly logical. His nose was all red, and his eyelashes were clumped together. Snot ran over his upper lip even as he sniffed and wiped at it with his forearm, and he still wasn’t looking at Richie.

“We can,” Richie inisted. His chest felt heavy, like his heart had just turned to lead and steel and fell right onto his stomach to make him queasy. “Eddie, I can’t—We can’t lose you. Not like Bev. Not like Stan.”

Beverly, he missed bad enough. They hadn’t known each other nearly as much as he knew Stan, but losing her felt like losing a part of himself. The Losers had just become complete, and so soon afterwards, one of their newest members had left. Stan had been one of the original four, though, had been friends with Richie even before Eddie had joined their small group, and he left just two years after Bev did.

Losing Beverly felt like losing an irreplaceable best friend—because she was—but losing Stan felt like losing a limb. He didn’t want to think about what losing Eddie would feel like.

“Richie,” Eddie started, but Richie didn’t let him finish. Instead, he jumped off the hammock completely, starting to pace back and forth and trying incredibly hard not to step towards Eddie. He needed to think, think, think.

“I have money, you know? Allowance. I could always find more, in the house, our emergency money. This is an emergency,” he claimed, because it was. Without Eddie, they wouldn’t be the same, but Eddie without the six of them? He’d be so lonely. He was so lonely, before he met Bill, who met Stan and Richie.

“Richie,” Eddie tried again, and he was sobbing now. Richie didn’t look at him, instead keeping his eyes trained up on the ceiling when he stopped his pacing.

“I know where my dad keeps the keys to his truck, and I know how to pump gas, and I haven’t driven in a few months but I still have my license.” Richie didn’t know what else he would need. He knew where to find his family’s emergency stash, how to drive a stick, how to fill up a tank, how to book a motel room. He knew how to make some food, like pasta, and cake from a box, and he knew how to bring groceries in with two trips. He knew all he would really need was Eddie.

“Richie,” Eddie sobbed, and sniffed, and wailed. Richie turned away from him, his back to Eddie, shoving his glasses up over his forehead so he could rub at the tears starting to fall. “Richie, we can’t, you know we can’t, you have to—”

“Tell me you don’t want to run away,” Richie begged, shutting his eyes tight. “Tell me you don’t want to steal my dad’s truck, and you don’t want to live in some sleazy motel with bed bugs biting us every fucking night, and you don’t want to live off microwave dinners, and-and french fries, and macaroni.”

“I can’t. I can’t. Richie, we can’t.”

“I want to run away with you. Say you wouldn’t come with me.”

“You can’t just—Rich, you know we can’t.”

“Then say it.”

“I—I...”

“Why not?” Richie asked. But he knew well enough. He cried over the hammock, and Eddie sobbed behind him, and they weren’t even looking at each other but Richie felt like he was suffocating in Eddie. He wanted to suffocate in Eddie forever.

“Do you know why I wanted to kiss you?” Eddie asked back, trying to choke down his ugly, guttural sobs. Richie’s face stung with the salt of his tears, and he felt like his sleeve was rubbing his face raw when he tried to rub them away. “Do you know?”

“I think I know,” Richie’s voice cracked, and it felt like his chest went right along with it. It felt like his sternum was cracked wide open, bearing all of himself, and like if he turned around Eddie would see it all. Or maybe he’s already seen it.

“Good. Good.” He heard Eddie’s sneakers scrape across dirt as he stumbled his feet, and he heard his footsteps come forward, and he couldn’t fight back the sob that had been building in his throat when Eddie touched him.

His hand touched lightly to Richie’s back, more of a graze of his fingertips than anything, but Richie felt like the slight contact had pushed his soul out of his body. It almost felt like he was a ghost, and he could only watch himself as he flinched forward and start bawling like a baby (like the baby he’d been when Maggie and Mrs. Uris had brought him and Stan together for the first time in preschool, and Stan had lightly kicked his knee on accident when sitting down, and Richie had promptly burst into tears).

Richie’s fingers curled into the hammock, between the strong strings that connected the cloth of it to the hooks holding it up to the sturdy support beams on the ceiling. His free hand searched, gripping the edge of the thick fabric, then rejecting it a moment later and instead grabbing at the empty air by his side. Eddie’s hand met his, and Richie finally turned around.

He barely got a glimpse of Eddie’s flushed, wet, ugly-crying expression before he released the hammock to grab his best friend and tug him close. Eddie clung right back, gripping onto the back of Richie’s shirt and Richie’s hand and crying into his chest and leaning into him. Richie stumbled back a little at the force of which they flew desperately at each other, and sat himself in the hammock that had felt important ever since he’d taken part in a verbal agreement that he didn’t even consider upholding.

Eddie climbed onto him and Richie turned, both of them working together to fit each part of themselves into the other like the world’s most difficult, two billion piece puzzle. Eddie ended up completely on top of Richie, arms and legs wrapped around him like a koala and head shoved into Richie’s chest. Richie held tightly to Eddie’s side, his back, letting his hand roam up to Eddie’s neck and through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie cried, and Richie could barely take an unsteady breath in before pressing his cheek to the crown of Eddie’s head. His hair was soft, but Richie had already started to get it damp with tears. “I don’t want to go. I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” Richie cried, and he would’ve kissed Eddie on the head except Eddie started crying even harder, and Richie followed because he followed Eddie no matter what. The crying stopped after a while, but they were both clinging to each other well past curfew.

Eddie had to leave Derry one month later, the day right after graduation, and all the friends he would be saying goodbye to were on his lawn before it was even light out. They talked and laughed and watched the sun rise above them, and even offered to help Eddie load up his luggage, which he adamantly declined. They promised to keep in touch, pretending it worked for Beverly and Stan, and pretending it would work for Eddie.

They biked after Mrs. Kaspbrak’s station wagon to wave goodbye until their legs started to burn, and then they kept pedaling even after that. Eddie waved back to them the whole time, his right arm sticking out the passenger seat window and moving quickly side to side. His hand was almost hypnotic, and the boys raced to keep it in their vision for as long as possible.

The station wagon made it out of sight after a few minutes, but they kept biking and biking until they reached the edge of town and slowed to a stop to stare down the stretch of an empty road. No one talked for a few minutes, panting and sweating and watching the heat waves bend the distant horizon into wobbly lines.

They promised to call, and write, and stay friends forever; but Beverly and Stanley promised to, and they didn’t. Eddie promised as well, just a few hours ago, but they knew he wouldn’t, either. They didn’t say it, but the four of them were afraid of doing the same thing. Bill and Ben and Mike and Richie cried right there in the middle of the empty road, and Richie wondered if Eddie was crying, too. He hoped he was. He didn’t want Eddie to not cry over them.

That night, and for many nights after, Richie dreamt of brown hair and brown eyes and a universe of freckles. He dreamt of smiles and frowns and shrieks and laughter and weak slaps and wrestling matches. He dreamt of red shorts and white socks and two black fanny packs and a watch that always beeps. He dreamt of ice cream cones melting on the ground and sweet punch in plastic cups and kisses that make him feel like the entire world has stopped spinning.

When Richie left Derry months later, he always forgot why he woke up crying until he forgot to wake up crying in the first place.

When Richie comes back to Derry twenty-two years later, he sees brown eyes and freckles and a tight smile, and his lips tingle like he’s just been kissed for the very first time in his life.